Seven minutes later, Stephen turned down the fifth neighborhood detour in a row—this one five streets behind the grocery store and two blocks up from Hobbs Park—and saw another gaggle of eager, short-skirted high-heeled women bursting with joy to see him and rushing obsequiously toward his car.

Quickly, he kicked the car in reverse and slammed the wheel around, knocking over what must have been his third mailbox in ten minutes, searching again for a street that was clear.

The problem now was that these women apparently knew his automobile and they were communicating with each other. Maybe they had some kind of message board set up, or a massive text chain. Perhaps some kind of app—the Neighwhorehood or similar. However it happened, no matter the road he drove on, there were women stepping out to greet him.

They all looked so deeply happy, was the thing. They were thrilled to see him! And then whenever he chanced a look back, they were always so devastated to see him driving away. The hot Kylie-fueled kink with Rhonda aside, Stephen actually hated seeing a woman unhappy. That was part of why he had lied to Marisa for so long about their money problems, the work problems, and his drinking.

Well, of course, he’d also lied to her about his drinking because of his drinking as well. You had to protect your drinking when you were a drunk—certainly no one else was sitting around waiting for an excuse to make sure you were able to keep drinking! Wives could be a nuisance, wanting you to change your life for the better and give up the only thing that made your existence worth going on for.

Stephen tried back road after back road to no avail, slowly pushing deeper into the nest of suburban subdivisions that surrounded his home—each time there were women waiting for him, carefully coordinating and smiling and shouting his name and often outright begging to suck his cock.

Each and every woman was a sexual fantasy—angel-faced with long legs and a tight body, usually busty beyond reason with gravity-mocking tits, and always dressed like lustful dynamos.

Down one street, every woman was in lingerie. Their stockings shimmered in the sunlight. Down another, every woman was a cheerleader, holding pom-poms and bouncing up and down to cheer his arrival.

Another sported nothing but tall, dark-haired women in evening gowns and hair with long one-sided parts, casting him seductive glances from underneath heavily-hooded eyes. He spied freshly prepared dinners waiting for him through the large windows of each house. They would suck him and stroke him and ride him and make him feel like a king.

On a street with what looked liked several barely-legal teenagers dressed trendily in miniskirts and slogan tees, several held hastily-written signs.

I’m ovulating!

Train me please!

Let me help teach Gale to suck you off!

God, but these women really knew how to get to him. Precum drenched his trousers. He looked like he had walked through a flood.

Finally, he found a farm road that led to an abandoned lot. It didn’t go anywhere, but he could use it to drop off the car and try to continue on foot.

Using the sun as a guide, he moved through the woods until he rejoined civilization in a half-built cul-de-sac lot. He wasn’t positive, but he thought he was just a few miles from his own neighborhood. Stephen had never been much for surreptitiousness, but thankfully, the waves and waves of bimbo babes filling the streets didn’t make it that hard. He just had to listen for the sounds of begging and confusion and wanting and aching and head away from it.

He walked up to a nearby fence, hiding behind a small oak tree while a gaggle of bimbo nurses moaned and tittered and squeezed their heavy, lactating tits. The smell was almost unbearably arousing. They were just up the street at a corner, and if he walked out now, they would see him for sure. He had to wait.

Nearby was a fence—when these bimbos left, he’d hop it and make his way that way, from one backyard to another. He’d read about someone doing it in a story at some point.

He wondered, with all the new construction going on, if these houses would ever be finished. When they started this lot, Marisa had originally wanted to buy a home here—the houses were much more expensive and luxurious than their own—and he had been reminded of this fact every time he drove with her and she requested they do a drive-by “just to take a look.”

He would deny her, or drive past and pretend not to hear, or the one or two times she really managed to get him to take that look, he’d been just awful about it. Moaning and complaining the whole time.

In truth, Stephen had always been an awful father and an even worse husband. He resented Marisa for reminding him of the money he wasn’t able to earn because he drank instead. He resented her especially for wanting a new house because it meant she was looking for the future with him—looking for a way to improve their family, when all he wanted was to sink into drink. And he couldn’t respect her when she could never see that.

Whatever changed when the totem was destroyed, he hoped he could retain this firm, fervent lack of need to fill himself with alcohol at every waking second. He’d been relieved of the need to get drunk now for two whole days almost, and it felt terrific.

The gaggle of bimbos at the corner finally moved on and he watched them walk for a while, stroking himself as he did, before finally moving on and going up and over the fence as planned.

Once he was in the yard, he walked to the other side, hoisted himself up and over again, and walked to the next fence.

He went on like this for some time, traversing mostly by backyards and sometimes by the rare street, hoisting himself up over fences and through gates. It was physical work but it did help to distract him from the pangs of need his cock sent his brain’s way every time he heard a transformed beauty’s recitation of love for him in the distance.

Doing this kind of work—physical work—at all was indeed a big shift for him. He had never been exactly obese, but he certainly had never been in shape. The changes that the girls suffered—enjoyed?—had somehow rubbed off on him, and he still hadn’t been able to put together why that was. Becoming some kind of accidental vampire of masculinity was the best explanation he’d come up with.

He was now stronger than he’d ever been—strong enough to kick a door off its hinges or toss a young mindfucked beauty around without breaking a sweat. And his endurance and stamina were clearly astronomically high, as he had energy to burn even after spending most of the last two days virulently fucking the hell of out of pornographically-charged angels.

Working his body cleared his head somewhat, especially now that he wasn’t gaping agog at a street full of living fantasies begging to be bred and enslaved to his will.

The women were changed because of the tattoo. He guessed they had been taking them to the police station for some kind of “questioning,” using the force of authority to compel and coerce innocent women into custody. Then they tattooed them, probably deeply against their will, turning them into mindfucked slaves for Stephen to enjoy or not depending on how much they pleased him.

Which was, as hot as it made him to think about, rather fucked up.

But how did any of that change him? Was it something in the air? Something transferred to him from holding the totem in the first place? Why would it affect all the men? Were they being tattooed and he just hadn’t seen it?

He had to put such thoughts to one side as he casually climbed another fence—getting rather close to his home, only a home or two away, he was certain—and came across two gorgeous women in bikinis sitting by their pool.

They sunbathed, both of them wearing bright red bikinis. They looked almost like sisters, with thick blond hair and heavy, bountiful breasts. Their legs were long, and the tight confines of the swimsuits they wore exposed how delectably thin their bodies were.

Was this Maude and Gertrude? That was the lesbian couple who lived next door.

No, no. That didn’t make sense. Maude and Gertrude were his neighbors, but they were incredibly old. Maude had suffered a recent bout with cancer and was on the losing end of the aftershocks, and Gertrude was so thoroughly stressed from dealing with that and caring for her that she had been losing her hair, taking to wearing bandanas and wraps.

These two were ethereal, young beauties. They looked barely eighteen, outside of the bright lustful wisdom he saw in their eyes.

They had seen him, of course. Sitting up on one arm like swimsuit models and smiling at his approach. They began to get out of their seats, strutting toward him, licking their lips. Needing his attention. Every single part of them vibrant, youthful, lustful, and thin.

He knew where this was going—and so did his cock. The sun had managed to dry out his pants a little, making them stiff and hard to walk in. But now, seeing their bodies displayed just for him, his cock gushed again and his pants began to fall away.

The fabric was too weak to stand up to his masculine power. Soon, he was naked from the waist down, with his cock straining and urging him forward.

“Ladies…” he put up his hands like he was backing away even as he stepped toward them.

Both rose up to meet him and soon they were on him. Heavy tits pushing up against his arms. Maude dropped to her knees. She had the longer, straighter hair of the two.

He had a whole series of protests on his lips but they acted so fast. Gertrude started kissing his neck and telling him how handsome he was. Her hair was thicker, and she had freckles all along her shoulders and nose.

“How did you know we’ve been waiting for you?” she whispered. “It’s been so long.”

“Our whole lives.”

This was the last thing Maude said before slipping her lips across his cock.

It wasn’t exactly sexual assault, because he certainly wasn’t fighting it, but he didn’t know that he was asking for it either. He was still sure he could stop this at any time.

But was that really the best idea?

Maude slid deeper on his cock. She was struggling with its girth; this absolute knockout blonde that could headline any strip club in America could barely take him in.

He was so close to his home. What if Marisa was there? Worse, what if fucking Gale was there?

Didn’t he want to have a quick fuck to relieve himself so he could have his mind straight before he got there? Didn’t that just make sense?

Maude groaned as her jaw opened wider and his cockhead pushed against the soft tissue of her throat. Gertrude gripped the bulge there while she kissed Stephen’s chest, shoulders, and face.

And if he was going to let Maude suck his cock, he may as well just fuck her, right? His cum was going in her regardless. And so there was no reason at all, in that case, to not do the same for Gertrude.

And honestly he would have to do it a second time for both, just because the first time would be full of panic and fear for him, and he wanted to be able to honestly enjoy their presence.

And at that point, really, just go for the hat trick and make it three—Stephen hated doing things in doubles and three always was a nice round number for him…

Looking down, he tried to see some reason not to fuck these women. But all he saw was two eager women desperate to make him cum, desperate to be bred by his all-powerful cock.

He was trying to make things right, and he certainly wasn’t going to do that if he didn’t fuck these women senseless. That only made sense. He was losing his morality if he didn’t fuck them.

Right?

Maude’s mouth lifted off his cock. “I worship you. I want to name all my babies after your glory, Master.”